


The Always Hopeful City

by estelraca



Category: Great Cities Series - N. K. Jemisin
Genre: M/M, Relationship Negotiation, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28209411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estelraca/pseuds/estelraca
Summary: New York watches Manhattan hunt, knowing that Manny is so dedicated to his job in large part because Manny wants to keep New York safe.  He's not used to that and doesn't know how to handle it, but probably the first step is talking to the man more.
Relationships: Manhattan/New York
Comments: 5
Kudos: 30
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	The Always Hopeful City

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frogy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogy/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this! I, too, loved this book, for a lot of the same reasons you did. I hope that I captured enough of the feel for you to enjoy it, and that you have a great holiday season.

_The Always Hopeful City_

Manny hunts.

I watch him.

I could do it from anywhere in the city. I might be able to do it from anywhere in the _world—_ it's a little unclear exactly how that's going to work with the six of us. But I could definitely do it from anywhere in New York, either through the eyes of the city or through that weird sort-of space where the Cities live.

I don't want to, though. Not tonight. Tonight I want to watch him—to watch him with _my_ eyes, to see the beauty and the danger that is his pure physicality.

The things he hunts are little forays from the Enemy into our territory. You'd think she— _it—_ would have learned, that R'lyeh would try to be a better neighbor now, but some bitches just don't know how to take a hint. Or a beating.

I'm not even sure the incursions are intentional right now. I'm pretty sure R'lyeh is licking her wounds, just as I had to spend some time licking mine after she tried to destroy me.

To destroy my whole _world_ , and I ain't going to forgive that anytime soon. This world is fucked up and broken, but it's _ours_ , and we've been trying real damn hard to make it better. Ain't nobody got a right to take it away before we see if we can.

The other avatars are spending most of their time in their boroughs. They have families and lives to pick back up, after all. Manny spends a lot of time in Manhattan, but he also makes forays into Brooklyn frequently, hunting for stray bits of incursion, and he patrols the rest of the boroughs at least once a week.

He's a dangerous man. A handsome man, but not one to forget yourself around. Not one to trust implicitly unless you want to find a knife sticking out of your back one day.

Except I know I can trust him. I don't trust _nobody_ , but I'd have to a fool not to recognize the adoration and loyalty he gives me.

And I have no idea why.

He looks back, picking me out of the shadows on the rooftop when nobody else would be able to. He's known that I'm following him all evening, and he doesn't seem to mind. He checks every once in a while to make sure my physical body is where his city-sense says it is, and he flinches when I think something cruel about him, but otherwise he just lets me be.

Hitmen aren't supposed to be so damn respectful of boundaries.

He flinches again, just the faintest hunch of his shoulders. He knows he isn't worthy of me, but he hopes to be, one day.

That's not my thought, that's his. I grunt, narrowing my eyes and pushing it aside. I don't do _worthy_. I don't do knights and true love and being willing to get yourself _eaten_ without a second thought.

Except that clearly I do, 'cause Manny is undeniably a part of me.

He finds what he's looking for on his own soil. It makes him irritable. He doesn't like anything infringing on his territory.

_We_ don't like anything impinging on our territory. Visiting, sure; moving in, sure; but coming with the purpose of sowing hurt, of telling our people they're wrong, of trying to make us less than what we are—oh, no, ain't no way we're going to accept that.

Manny doesn't physically hurt the invaders. We had decided that early on—we don't want to kill unless it's necessary, and with our power it's usually not necessary right now. Dead bodies piling up is just a bad look, and it opens us up to attacks from other directions. Not that actually following the law has ever helped a dark-skinned boy survive, but still.

Still, we're New Yorkers, and no matter what anyone says we don't _like_ seeing our fellow human beings suffer.

Most of us don't, anyway.

Instead of hurting them—which he could, so easily, the knowledge of how to hurt people is _right there_ —Manny just puts the fear of God and New York into them, burning away the little tendrils of R'lyeh that are not welcome here and undoubtedly convincing the humans underneath of their rightness about the insanity and cruelty and ungodliness of us true New Yorkers.  
Fuck 'em. They would hate me for too many things to count, starting with my birth and moving through my skin color and my sexuality and my gender and the things I've done to survive. I was never going to convince them of my right to exist, and I don't expect my city will, either. We're both going to live just the same.

Manny is looking up at me again, and I don't need to see his face to know what he hungers for. He wants me to tell him he did good. He wants me to pat his head and stroke his back and go _good dog_ while he wags his tail for me.

Except that's not quite fair to either of us. He never asked for this, either, and he's been nothing but patient with me.

I'm the fucker up here stalking him, after all, while he's just doing his damn _job_ , what Manhattan chose him to do.

I reach out, touching Queens for a moment, borrowing her understanding of physics and math and probabilities and how things can move.

She smiles, pleased at my attention, even as most of her is occupied with whatever it is her aunt's asking her to do. Some family thing, I think, with a little bit of a pang. It's not a surprise to me that most of New York is people with _connections_ , people who _belong_ to others.

It's also not a surprise that I'm not, that if I had disappeared before the city chose me to let it breathe, most likely no one would have even filed a missing person's report. Certainly the police wouldn't have cared to look into it if one had been filed.

My melancholy only lasts a moment, and then I'm using what Queens knows. I'm down on the street without having moved a muscle, without having had to climb, my hands in the pockets of my jeans, looking up at Manny.

He smiles back at me, tentative, hesitant. “Do you want...”

His voice trails off, because he doesn't know what he can offer that I will accept. Want a drink? Want a meal? Want a place to sleep? Want to come fuck me senseless?

There was a time, just a few weeks ago, when I would have said yes to all four of these without a second's hesitation. I would have tried my best to make sure I'd come _back_ from whatever I agreed to, but beyond that... beyond that, my hunger had been an all-consuming thing.

Now I didn't need to eat, though I was always still hungry. Now I didn't need to worry about my latest tryst killing me—not unless I did something real dumb like sleeping with another city—but I did have to worry about the world potentially ending.

Trade-offs.

Manny's expression falls, his eyes moving away from mine. He _wants_ so much, and he knows he can't force me to accept that, and it eats at him. What is a knight without a lord, after all? Who is Gawain without Arthur and the Grail?

“I'm a real shitty Arthur.” I rub a hand back through my hair, knowing he will follow my train of thought because I want him to. Sometimes all six of us being connected can be a blessing rather than a curse. “But if you got an extra place to sleep at your place... I wouldn't mind crashing inside tonight.”

He lights up like Times Square, like the ball as it drops at New Years, like a fireworks display on July 9th. “I've got a roommate, but I don't think he'll mind.”

“Lead the way, then.”

He does. We walk, which is nice in a way that's hard to describe. It feels _right_ , our feet on our pavement, our buildings rising up around us, our sky open and bright overhead despite the late hour.

New York is in our blood, in our bones, in our _souls_ , and it's good to just... exist here together for a little bit.

He's aware of my presence, acutely, intensely. He thinks I'm incredible—sexy and smart and worthy of all the fealty in the world.

I'm not used to that kind of adoration, but for the moment I just let it wash through me. It's only partly for _me_ , after all. A big part of it's just him falling in love, again, with the city.

The city that is me.

His apartment is about what I would expect for someone like Manny. His roommate is still up, sitting at a computer desk and playing a game that I don't recognize. He pauses the game, sliding his headphones down to hang on his neck as he studies me with frank curiosity but no fear or censure. “Yo, Manny. Who's your friend?”

“This is—” Manny freezes, running up against the strange fact that he doesn't _know_ my name. He just knows me as New York. As the avatar of the place he loves, as the man he wants to hunt for and protect, as the being he was willing to surrender himself utterly for.

“Nuevo.” I grin. It's not my name, but it's a _part_ of what I am, and it'll work well enough for now. “Nice to meet you.”

“Bel.” The man has a British accent, but that doesn't matter. He's folded himself into New York life easily, and I know that he's _ours—_ that he's for Manny and I to protect. “You gonna be... staying the night?”

There's curiosity and hesitance in the way Bel asks the question, and his eyes cut to Manny.

Manny flushes, and he's really damn cute when he does. I try to think if I've seen him blush before, but I can't think of a time—he's usually all calm control no matter what he's doing.

“I'll be staying the night, if that's okay. But just to have a roof over my head, you know? It's been a hell of a year. Another night...” I turn, eyeing Manny, smiling in a way that is teasing but not promising. Not yet. “We'll see.”

Bel coughs out a laugh as Manny turns even redder. “Well, I got no problem with it provided you're not gonna stab us in the night or something.” He pauses, hand lowering, focusing on Manny with an intensity that surprises me. “And so long as no strange women, alien plant life, or tendril-covered racists with super-powers are going to be showing up?”

My eyebrows arch up, and I reach out to Manny. The next few seconds are spent with me processing a handful of memories, Bel standing together with Manny against advances from the Woman in White.

“I don't think they will be.” I grin. “And if something decides to try, well... there won't be no safer place in New York than next to Manny and me.”

“That's less reassuring than I think you intend it to be, but I accept it.” Bel turns back to his computer, hands going to his headphones. “Have a good night flirting.”

“We won't be—” Manny stops his protestation as Bel arranges his headphones, clearly done with the both of us for the moment.

Without saying anything, Manny leads me back to his bedroom. It's clean and spare, practically devoid of personal touches. I'm not surprised by this—Manny has reinvented himself from scratch, and he's been spending more time acting as my knight in tarnished armor than he has trying to pick up posters or tchotchkes.

I could paint something for him. I don't tend to do indoor things, but for Manny... to erase those expanses of barren wall... it's a tempting thought.

“I would like that.” Manny's voice is soft, hesitant. “If you wanted. I could get you paints, whatever you'd like...”

“It would be hell on the safety deposit. I doubt Bel would appreciate it.”

“There's always more paint. I'm good at erasing traces when I want to. Besides which...” Manny's chin rises just a little. “It's my borough, in our city. If you want to paint, you paint, wherever you want.”

I almost tell him it doesn't work that way, but then I stop because... well, it kind of does. The rules are what we make of them. Sure, there are things that can still annoy us—legal systems have a way of doing that to everyone, though more so for the people they're not intended to serve—and there are things that can hurt us—both of our thoughts shudder away from R'lyeh, our unwanted neighbor—but for the most part we're a difficult to phase bunch.

“Tomorrow, maybe.” I wonder what I could paint for him, and I immediately get a flash of inspiration—not from me, but from him.

It's not quite like the self-portrait I did before. There are hands reaching for my face, shadows of my missing pieces surrounding me.

It's how Manny saw me, when they came to save me. When they joined with me, the people who would help me survive—help our city survive—who were willing to risk their lives to save others, and instead just found themselves stuck with the rest of us chucklefucks in their thoughts.

In their souls, really. Entwined with the very core of their beings, and though we're all glad to be alive I can understand why some of the other cities would have consumed their subsections entirely.

I would never have been willing to do it—I wouldn't be New York if I'd been willing to do it—but I could understand it.

“You don't have to, of course.” Manny backs up, settling onto the edge of his bed. “I just...”

“I get it.” I turn back to him, smiling. “I'll draw you something. We'll see what comes out when the time comes.”

Manny nods, not quite meeting my eyes.

Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe it's impossible for the two of us to stay so close together without the awkwardness of what he wants to be and what I am rising up to drown out everything else.

“You'll take the bed.” Manny stands, gesturing to the mattress. “I'll sleep on the floor.”

“Nah, that's fine. I've slept rough a lot.” I gesture to the floor. “This'll be nice with just a few blankets.”

Manny's jaw sets.

“Come on now.” I reach out, giving his shoulder a little shove. He responds easily— _eagerly—_ to my touch, settling back down on the edge of the bed. “That picture you're so fond of has me sleeping on newspaper.”

He hesitates, and I see a flush rising up again. “I mean... we could always share the bed.”

I can't help it. I laugh. “There's only one bed? Really? That's where we're at?”

“Well...” Manny laughs as well. “We've certainly got the sexual tension going for it.”

I step forward, into his personal space. He doesn't move, just watching me. Hungry, so hungry, just like I always am, but what he wants—what he _needs—_ is me. Is to be _important_ to me, to _protect_ me, to offer me everything I could possibly desire, and I don't know how to handle that.

I don't know if it's _real_ , or if it's something I've created, something that Manny's only feeling because some part of me _wanted_ this. Wanted to be special, and desired, and loved, and plied with gifts, including the bodies of my enemies.

_My god, won't you two just settle?_ Brooklyn's exasperation sizzles through all six of them. _Some of us have work to do at normal human hours tomorrow morning._

_City that never sleeps._ The Bronx is entertained by us, though there's a note of exasperation to her words, as well. _But some of us want to._

Manny has his face in his hands, his mouth screwed up in a rictus of embarrassment. “Shut up, all of you.”

They do, though of course they're still there. We're always still there for each other, through life-threatening horror and stupid relationship negotiations.

I lean in, gripping Manny's hands at the wrists so that I can move them aside.

And I kiss him.

Physically, it's not in my top ten kisses. The angles are all wrong, me leaning down, him too startled to properly tilt his chin. It's also not in the bottom ten, though, because he is _hot_ , and he is eager, and he knows what he's doing just as much as I do.

Psychically, spiritually, whatever else you want to call it... oh, I have never had a kiss like it before, and I don't think I ever will again.

How can anything compare to the first time you kiss someone and you know exactly how they feel? I feel my lips on Manny's, but I also feel his on mine; I feel my fingers on his wrists, but I also feel the way his pulse beats against my grasp.

I am giving and receiving; I am the wanter and the object of want; I am Manhattan and I am New York and it is _glorious_.

I pull back, gasping. Manny sits panting on the edge of the bed, his whole being leaning towards me, his mind and soul open to me.

“Later.” This time it is a promise, though I don't know if it's wise to make it. “Later, but not now. I'm not... I can't, yet. I still need some time.”

“I can give you time.” He means it, too. He will give me all the time there is in the world, until New York burns or crumbles or is swallowed by the sea and all of us cease to exist.

It's part of what frightens me about him.

“Shove over.” The bed will be cramped, and maybe this isn't the smartest idea in the world, but despite the summer warmth outside I can remember cold winter days. “We're both sleeping on the bed.”

Manny grins, but he doesn't say anything about winning or about this changing anything. He doesn't have to. We both know it's one small step towards us getting closer—one more link in a chain that's going to bind us together for a very long time if we allow it.

It doesn't take either of us long to get ready for bed. We're both tired, and even if we weren't we could just tap into the sleepiness of those who are already abed to get into the proper mood.

We both are wearing T-shirts as well as our underwear, and neither of us put an arm around the other, though we both think about it.

Not yet.

Not on this first night.

Not if I really want to make this take _time_ , make this something... different from what I've done before.

“Sleep well.” Manny's words are a soft whisper in my ear.

“You too.” I whisper in return, and my fingers reach out, questing until they link with his.

It takes both of us more time than it should to fall asleep, but when we do, it's with heart and hands and souls all twined together, and a long future stretching out before us.

It's more than either of us had thought we'd have at the start of this, and together we're going to make the most of it, one little step at a time.


End file.
